


i will say that we should take a day to break away

by anirondack



Series: 10 Kinks Challenge [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cock Rings, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Overstimulation, Overworked Victor Nikiforov, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: “You’re thinking too loudly. I can hear it from here.”“I’m not.”“Yes you are. You’re thinking about your programs. You’re thinking about how you need to be practicing. Victor, you need to stop thinking.”Victor looks up at Yuuri, who pushes his bangs out of his face. Yuuri’s touch against his cheek is gentle, his weight in Victor’s lap comforting. Victor’s hands curl around Yuuri’s hips and squeeze lightly like he likes to do and hasn’t for too long.“I don’t remember how,” he says quietly. “I can’t.”Yuuri’s expression softens and he combs his fingers through Victor’s hair. “Let me take care of you, okay? Let me help.”Victor is overwhelmed by trying to be a coach and a competitor at the same time. Yuuri takes him out of his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 10 Kinks Challenge. Kinks are "sensory deprivation" and "overstimulation", and we're revisiting "sex toys" with some more interesting ones (the list i picked kinks from has 'sex toys' and 'extreme sex toys' which okay that's super vague, but here i go).
> 
> a sort of love letter to [passione segreta in b minor, part two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10341144) with the role reversals. if you liked that one, you'll probably like this one.
> 
> i love victor but what did he think was going to happen when he decided to coach and compete at the same time. i mean really.

Victor is not holding up very well.

He’s very good at hiding it, after years and years of practice at being flawless to the public eye, but he’s fading fast and it’s getting easier to tell.

Yakov had dragged Victor back to Saint Petersburg the second the Grand Prix finals were over and Victor spent two weeks reworking old programs into something Nationals-worthy, kicking himself back into shape, and spending hours in video calls with Yuuri at five in the morning when Yuuri brought his computer to Ice Castle, opened a Skype call, and did his routines. He slept about four hours a night, ran five or six miles a day, pulled double practices, and managed a silver at Nationals, which he probably owes Minako as a gift in return for standing in as Yuuri’s coach at Japanese Nationals.

After Nationals and New Years and Christmas, Yuuri moves to Russia, but then it’s Europeans, and Victor nearly kills himself with eight and ten hour days running to the rink with Yuuri, training him for three hours, training himself for three hours, putting in shifts at the gym and doing push-ups on the warm up benches while Yuuri gets a twisted ankle checked out. Yuuri is tired, but Victor is _exhausted_ , and he can barely do anything but crawl into bed at the end of the day and hope Yuuri remembers to set their five AM alarm.

He does well at Europeans and nets another silver, and Yuuri has to practically carry him from the car to the apartment when they get home. Victor sleeps on and off for a full day, and when he wakes up, Yuuri is gone and there’s a note in his place - Yuuri is at the rink, he’ll be home by five, can Victor get dinner started? Victor falls back asleep and does not get dinner started, and Yuuri frowns when he gets home but digs through the cupboard for quick-cook brown rice.

The lead-up to Four Continents doesn’t improve anything, because Victor is trying to make a new program for Worlds while also pushing Yuuri as hard as Yuuri can stand it while also trying to heal from shin splints while also trying to teach Yuuri how to do a quad Lutz. Yuuri can’t get the hang of the Lutz and Victor snaps at him and immediately skates up to him, apologizing profusely. Just because he can do it, doesn’t mean everyone can. Victor forgets that sometimes.

Yuuri shakes him off and fails and fails and fails. There are two weeks until Four Continents and Victor wants the quad Lutz in there, to replace one of the toe loops, but Yuuri just can’t get it right. Frustration wears both of them thin until Yuuri grabs Victor by the shoulders and tells him they’re both going home for the day. It’s only three in the afternoon, but Yuuri’s expression offers no room for argument, so Victor lets Yuuri strong-arm him into the locker room and the showers and the bus and the bed at home.

Yuuri wakes up from a nap to see Victor pouring over paperwork from the JSF, trying to translate Japanese to English to Russian so he can confirm Yuuri for Worlds. Victor has a pen in his mouth and three different Google translate windows open on his computer. Yuuri sighs softly and gets up to make tea.

Yuuri wins gold at Four Continents and Victor lets loose in a terrible way. At the gala afterwards, he drinks way too much and hugs people who don’t want hugs (see: Altin, Otabek; see: Lee, Seung-Gil; see: Lee, Seung-Gil’s coach). Yuuri keeps taking champagne flutes from Victor and Victor keeps finding new ones and draining them and hanging off of Yuuri’s arm and, eventually, crying in the bathroom. Yuuri rescues him and takes him back to their room, feeds him a bottle of water and two aspirin, and puts him to sleep. Victor doesn’t remember any of it the next morning, but he pays for it as he lies on the bathroom floor and Yuuri orders ginger ale and toast from room service.

Victor is green on the plane back from Taiwan, but the next day, he’s at the rink again, dragging Yuuri by the hand, saying, “I have to match my quad flips back to yours, my Yuuri, how else will I beat you?” Yuuri’s quad flips are noticeably better, and Victor’s are noticeably worse. Yuuri looks at the bags under Victor’s eyes that get deeper and darker every week and he thinks he knows why.

Each day preparing for Worlds is a special kind of tightrope-walking hell. Victor wakes up at four thirty, makes breakfast, feeds Makkachin, wakes Yuuri up, gets dressed, and leaves the apartment. They run to the rink, and around the rink, and jump and jump and jump until the zamboni comes out, and then they do step sequences and choreographic sequences and more jump sequences. Victor goes to the gym and Yuuri spots him as he does crunches, and then they trade, and then they go back to the ice and do more jumps and more jumps and more jumps.

Victor falls on his quad Salchow.

He stays down, sitting on the ice.

Yuuri comes and sits down next to him.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

“You shouldn’t leave the rink unfinished,” Victor replies. “It creates animosity between you and the ice.”

“I think there’s a fair bit of animosity already,” Yuuri says. “Come on. I’ll run a bath for you.”

Victor sighs and leans his head against Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri wraps an arm around Victor’s back, then helps him up and pulls him toward the gate. They walk home instead of running, and Yuuri draws Victor a bath with nice smelling oils, and then when he comes back in to see how Victor’s doing, Victor is watching videos of his routines on his phone.

Yuuri sighs and strips and climbs into the bath with Victor. He turns the hot water up and takes the phone away. Victor looks quietly indignant, but he accepts when Yuuri turns him around and pulls him against his chest and he falls asleep with Yuuri rubbing his back.

Yuuri watches Victor more closely for the next few days. Worlds is three weeks away, and Victor looks like he’s going to keel over before then. His skating is technically good, but he does everything with the same dead-eyed sort of exhaustion in his face and his presentation is flat. Yakov yells at him to look up more, but sometimes it seems like Victor is too tired to even hold up his head.

 _I made this_ , Yuuri thinks to himself at night when he’s helping Victor shower because Victor was on the ice for eight hours today and his bloodied, exhausted feet won’t hold him up without help. It’s not technically true - Victor loves the ice and, regardless of how tired he is, he likes skating again, now that he has something to skate for. Victor had made this decision, and the one to continue to be Yuuri’s coach at the same time, but it hurts Yuuri to see Victor’s blank stare on the bus when they go home.

“We’re not practicing tomorrow,” Yuuri declares over dinner. They’re eating lots and lots of pasta and grilled chicken because they desperately need the carbs. Makkachin is lying on Victor’s feet. Victor is toying with the rim of his glass of water, but he frowns and looks up.

“Yuuri, Worlds is in two and a half weeks.”

“We haven’t had a day off in ages,” Yuuri says. “Even on our rest days, you make us go to the gym, or down to the beach. Tomorrow, let’s stay in.”

Victor purses his lips.

“Victor. You need it. _I_ need it. Call Yakov, tell him we’re not going to be in tomorrow.”

Victor seems to either realize how much he needs time off, or else is just too tired to fight, because he gets his phone in the middle of dinner and calls Yakov. Yakov accepts his request without hesitation - even he knows that Victor’s working too hard.

“Good. Finish your dinner now, and I’ll wash up,” Yuuri prompts. Victor mechanically eats the rest of his pasta, then stands up. He leans over as he passes Yuuri and kisses the top of his head.

“Wake me up when you come to bed, okay?” he requests softly.

“Sure,” Yuuri says, even though he has no intention of doing it.

The corner of Victor’s mouth raises a little, and he gets ready for bed and passes out the second his head hits the pillow.

He wakes up at five the next morning, in the dark, even though the alarm didn’t go off. Yuuri is curled around him protectively, his face smushed into Victor’s shoulder. Victor blinks at the ceiling, then looks at the clock. Five oh two.

He should get up for a run. Even if Yuuri takes some time off, Victor really can’t afford to. He can get a run in before the sun comes up, and then maybe he and Yuuri can make breakfast together and feed bites to each other on the couch and Yuuri can count while Victor does sit-ups.

“Hey.” A soft, sleepy voice comes from around Victor’s neck area. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yuuri.”

“It’s still dark out. Rest.”

“Yuuri–”

“We’re taking the day off today,” Yuuri says sternly, or as sternly as he can when he’s still soft with sleep and nestled into Victor’s side. “No runs. No workouts. Just rest.”

Victor chews on his lower lip until Yuuri reaches up and turns Victor’s face toward him. He cranes his head up and places a soft kiss against Victor’s lips, then shifts more comfortably on top of him.

“Go back to sleep, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs. He brushes his fingertips down Victor’s throat, then closes his eyes and lays his head back on Victor’s chest.

Victor watches him for a while, enjoying the rise and fall of Yuuri’s back. He rests his hand on Yuuri’s spine and searches out his heartbeat. He’s felt Yuuri’s pulse plenty of times over the last three months, but only when it was racing for one reason or another. It’s been so long since he felt it slow and even and relaxed.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up again and it’s light out and he’s alone. The curtains are open a couple of inches and light streams in at the foot of the bed. Victor sniffs and rubs his face and arches his back to hear his spine pop satisfyingly, then looks at the clock and sees that it’s after eleven thirty.

He rolls out of bed and stretches again and pops some more, and then Makkachin trots in. Victor kneels down and ruffles his ears and Makkachin licks his face.

“Have you been fed yet?” Victor asks Makkachin.

Makkachin yawns and Victor wrinkles his nose at his breath.

“Okay, good. Have you gone out?”

Makkachin sniffs and butts Victor’s chest.

“Alright, alright. Let’s see what Yuuri’s doing.”

Victor stands up and heads out of the bedroom. He takes a quick detour to the bathroom to pee and wash his face, and then he comes into the living room to see Yuuri on his laptop, mug of tea at his elbow, reading some article or another. Yuuri looks up when he hears Victor come in and he pushes his glasses up on his nose and smiles. “There you are. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Victor says. He feels heavy with it. It was definitely needed, but all his limbs are lead now.

“Good. There’s leftovers if you’re hungry now, or we can make something in a bit.”

“We need to take Makkachin out,” Victor points out.

“That’s true. Let’s pick up something while we’re out.”

Victor bites his tongue to avoid pointing out that it would be better for them if they made lunch themselves. _Rest day_ , he reminds himself in his head.

“Sounds great.”

Yuuri closes his laptop, gets up, stretches the way Victor does, and then comes over and drapes himself over Victor’s chest. Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri immediately and Yuuri nuzzles his throat.

“Mmm,” he hums against Victor’s skin, then kisses it. “Morning.”

“Barely,” Victor says.

“Close enough.” Yuuri tugs Victor into a few quick kisses, and then he goes to the bedroom and gets dressed. Victor follows and they get ready in quiet and take Makkachin for a long loop around a more financial area so that Yuuri can buy them food and they can sit on a bench in the weak sun and eat it while Makkachin sniffs at the street curbs. Yuuri convinces Victor to split an ice cream cone with him, and they walk for a while longer before Makkachin gets tired and they head back home.

Yuuri hangs around in the living room watching television with subtitles. Victor sits on the other side of the couch and massages Yuuri’s feet and calves and smiles inwardly at Yuuri’s sighs and groans and soft praises. But he feels antsy, full of restless energy. There’s just so much that needs to be _done_ before Worlds – Yakov had convinced Victor to give up inventing two new programs in a month, but Victor’s old skates aren’t as good as Yuuri’s current ones and he knows it. He needs to up the difficulty - two quad Lutzes? Yuuri had done two quad flips at Four Continents, it can be done - and he needs to get some good, clean run-throughs. Maybe Victor should try five quads. No one has done it before, but he’s used to blazing trails–

“Hush,” Yuuri says without looking away from the television.

“What?”

“You’re thinking too loudly. I can hear it from here.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re thinking about your programs.” Yuuri picks up the remote and turns the television off, then pushes himself up and crawls into Victor’s lap. He sits back and puts his hands on Victor’s shoulders. “You’re thinking about how you need to be practicing. Victor, you need to stop thinking.”

Victor looks up at Yuuri, who pushes his bangs out of his face. Yuuri’s touch against his cheek is gentle, his weight in Victor’s lap comforting. Victor’s hands curl around Yuuri’s hips and squeeze lightly like he likes to do and hasn’t for too long.

“I don’t remember how,” he says quietly. “I can’t.”

Yuuri’s expression softens and he combs his fingers through Victor’s hair. “Let me take care of you, okay? Let me help.”

“You don’t have to,” Victor says.

“I know I don’t. I want to, though. Let me?”

Yuuri’s eyes are big and gentle behind his glasses. Victor’s skin aches for him, even though there’s an itch for the ice under it. He breathes in the smell of Yuuri and exhales slowly. Yuuri doesn’t look away.

Victor really needs to stop thinking.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Yuuri looks pleased, and he kisses Victor’s forehead.

“Do you… have a plan?”

“I have some things. Just relax here for a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Victor says. Yuuri kisses his forehead, and then slides out of his lap and heads off into their bedroom. Victor listens intently for a moment, trying to make out the soft rustles and the sounds of drawers being opened and closed. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back and his mind drifts back to practice yesterday, when _Yuuri_ had coached _him_ on his quad flip, and Victor had listened and gotten better. Victor has no shame in letting someone under him help him, but he does have shame wrapped around not being able to do things he used to be so good at. It weighs his shoulders down heavily - maybe that’s why he can’t get the same air he used to.

“Stop thinking,” Yuuri says in his ear. Victor starts; he hadn’t heard Yuuri come back, but Yuuri’s hands are on his shoulders and his chin is on Victor’s head.

“I was just thinking about the flip–”

“Shh. No skating today.” Yuuri reaches down and flips at the hem of Victor’s shirt. “Can I take this off?”

Victor nods and lifts his arm, and Yuuri pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it on the couch. Then there’s a soft fabric sound from behind Victor and, suddenly, something is wrapped around his eyes, casting him into darkness. He stiffens a little, and then relaxes as he feels the thing being tied around the back of his head. It smells familiar, and it’s warm and soft and kind of comforting.

“Yuuri? What’s this?”

“A scarf.” There’s a second’s pause, and then Yuuri brushes the fringe against Victor’s cheek. Victor squirms as it tickles him. “One of mine. Is it uncomfortable?”

Victor shakes his head. “Soft.”

“Good. Now, come on, let me help you up.”

Yuuri’s footsteps come around the couch and then Victor’s hands are in his. Yuuri carefully pulls Victor upright and takes his arm and edges him around their table and down the hall. Victor hears the door open, and then Yuuri walks him to the bed and pushes him down onto it. Victor sits and hears something else jostle next to him.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it yet,” Yuuri says soothingly. His fingers stroke Victor’s cheeks again. Victor’s head drops forward of its own accord, resting in Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri makes a quiet, pleased noise and gives his scalp a little scratch.

“I’m going to close the door, okay?”

Victor nods, and Yuuri’s hands disappear. Victor’s body follows them, and he frowns, a little hum of anxiety starting up when Yuuri isn’t touching him, but the door clicks closed softly and then Yuuri is back, rubbing Victor’s shoulders.

“Now I’m going to take your sweatpants off, okay?”

Victor nods again, and then says, “Okay.” Lips press against the top of his head, and then there’s a gentle thump below him - Yuuri getting on his knees - and then the tie of Victor’s sweatpants is undone and the pants are pulled out from under him and off of his legs. They make a soft _flump_ when Yuuri tosses them on the ground.

“These too?” Yuuri asks, curling his fingers over the edges of Victor’s underwear. Victor nods and lifts his hips and Yuuri pulls those away too, leaving Victor naked and blind and still warm. There’s a shuffle and a cracking noise - Yuuri’s knees, probably - and then Yuuri’s hands are on Victor’s sides, under his arms, helping him up. He scoots Victor back on the bed until Victor is propped up against the headboard. Victor lets his head drop back, and then there’s more shuffling and Yuuri picks up one of his hands.

“Can you make a… a flat hand for me?” Yuuri asks. Victor nods and makes his hand flat and stiff, and then something is pulled over his fingers. It takes him a moment to parse out that they’re his leather gloves, the thicker ones that he wears when they go out walking in the snow.

“Yuuri?”

“Trust me?” Yuuri says softly. “They’re not spring trapped.”

Victor smiles a little and nods. Yuuri tugs his glove on the rest of the way, and then he takes Victor’s other hand and repeats the motions, and Victor’s hands are swathed in warm, soft leather.

“What are these for, Yuuri?”

“So you don’t have to think about your hands. Now, put them over your head?”

Victor complies, and then something soft starts wrapping around his wrists. He feels Yuuri shift next to him, knee leaning against Victor’s hips, and Yuuri tugs at whatever the soft thing is, then pushes Victor’s wrists down and pulls them tight. Victor struggles a little out of habit and Yuuri stills him, jerking his wrists around a little, and then when he pulls back, Victor tugs and realizes that he’s tied to the headboard.

“Is this alright?” Yuuri asks. One hand falls to rest on Victor’s thigh, the other on his shoulder. His thumb strokes along Victor’s collarbone in long, slow strokes.

Victor nods.

“Words, please?”

“This is okay.” Victor’s voice is already a little rough. It’s been a very long time since either have had the energy to touch each other. “Why…?”

“So you don’t have to do anything,” Yuuri says. The hand on his thigh leaves and touches his chest again. “You don’t have to worry about doing anything at all. Just let me take care of it.”

“Yuuri…”

“Yes, Victor?”

“You don’t– you don’t have to.”

“But I _want_ to.” Yuuri sounds so unbearably sincere that Victor is pretty sure his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“Okay,” Victor agrees. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, um… I went in your drawer, I hope that’s okay.” Yuuri sounds shy, even though Victor gave him express permission to use any of the toys in his bedside table whenever he wanted. Yuuri has made use of them in the last couple months when Victor has been too tired to move, let alone fuck, and Victor just watched and ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as Yuuri fucked himself to completion and hissed Victor’s name.

“Of course it is, my Yuuri. What do you have for me?”

“Well, I wanted to get this first.” Fingers, surprisingly warm, curl around Victor’s cock and Victor twitches. Somewhere above him, Yuuri laughs softly, fondly, and it settles around Victor like warm water. Yuuri gives Victor’s soft cock a couple slow strokes, and then starts working something over and around it.

“Yuuri?”

“It’s the... that ring you have. For when you’re trying to keep up with me.”

Victor can absolutely hear the smirk in Yuuri’s voice as he says that.

“The cock ring?”

“Yes, that one. I think it’ll help.”

“What are you planning on doing to me, Yuuri?” Victor asks with a bit of a tease in his voice.

“Shh. I’m not going to tell you, you’ll just think about it too much.” Yuuri starts jerking Victor off very slowly, with his fingertips more than anything else, and Victor groans and grits his teeth as he feels himself start to get hard. When’s the last time he even masturbated? Yuuri gave him a blowjob in the shower a couple weeks ago. Was there any time after that? There must have been.

“Victor,” Yuuri says patiently.

Victor curses softly. Yuuri is so much better at reading him these days.

“I know, I know, it’s difficult,” Yuuri says, sympathetic. “Trust me, I know.”

Victor nods and sighs and swallows. Suddenly, Yuuri’s body weight is on him as he hugs Victor tightly around the middle. Victor tugs against Yuuri’s scarf as he tries to hold him back, but he can’t. He feels clumsy and heavy, partly from the gloves making it hard to feel anything above him, so he just buries his face in Yuuri’s neck and breathes in.

“There you go,” Yuuri says, pleased. “Are you ready for more?”

“Just a moment,” Victor says plaintively. He wiggles a little under Yuuri and Yuuri smiles against his hair and squeezes him. He rests all his weight on Victor and Victor sighs into it comfortably until he feels settled enough to murmur, “Okay. Show me what other surprises you have for me.”

“I need to warm you up first,” Yuuri says. He slowly disentangles himself from Victor, then crawls around the bed and pushes Victor’s legs apart. Victor instinctively pulls them back together, but Yuuri is gently insistent, and once Victor’s thighs part for him, he sits cross-legged between them, Victor’s knees resting on top of his own. Victor listens intently to try to guess what Yuuri is doing, and the pop of the cap of their lube is deafening.

“Are you going to fuck me, Yuuri?” Victor asks, half hopeful.

“I’m not, no,” Yuuri says. He presses a kiss to the inside of Victor’s knee. “I just need to get you comfortable.”

Victor is about to ask what he needs to be comfortable for, but then Yuuri’s fingertips press against him, wet and already warm, and his words die away into a meaningless mumble. Yuuri chuckles again, and then lips brush against Victor’s. Victor cranes his head to meet them again, but they’re already gone.

“Yuuri,” Victor whines. “Cruel.”

“Perhaps,” Yuuri says. His fingertips rub back and forth slowly, forcibly relaxing Victor’s muscles. Victor bears down a little and Yuuri pinches his thigh. “Let me do it. You don’t have to do anything.”

Victor grumbles and settles back, and is rewarded by Yuuri pressing in, just to the first knuckle but with both of his fingers. “Mmmm.”

“You like that,” Yuuri says warmly. Victor nods. “Good. Just a moment more.”

 _A_ moment turns out to be a lot of moments, though, because Yuuri moves slowly. Victor feels each millimeter breaching him because Yuuri makes him wait after each one. He gets squirmy and tries to rock down, so Yuuri pulls him by the hips until his body is stretched out from his spot in Yuuri’s lap to the headboard where his arms are still tied and he has no leverage. Victor groans and wiggles again and Yuuri stills him with one hand on his chest and goes back to the agonizingly slow push.

“What’s this for, Yuuri?” Victor pants. His cock his hard now, lying against his stomach, and he can feel his heartbeat in his balls from the ring. He’s sweaty, not from struggling but trying not to struggle; self control has never been Victor’s strong suit off the ice.

Yuuri is quiet for a moment. The hand on Victor’s chest disappears, though the fingers inside him don’t. There’s silence for a second, and then there’s a click and a low hum starts up.

Victor’s eyes pop open into darkness. “Which one is that?” he breathes.

“I don’t know, have you named them all?” Yuuri asks wryly. “It’s black.”

“Does it have the twisting bits at the top?”

“No, just the white handle.”

Victor’s body convulses a little. He knows what Yuuri’s holding. He knows what it feels like buried inside him. He knows what it looks like buried inside Yuuri.

“I’m ready,” he says decisively, and tries to tilt his head up again.

“No rush,” Yuuri says. “ _I'_ _m_ not ready.”

The fingers inside Victor press in a little more, and then there’s a wet, sloppy sound and more lube dribbles onto Victor’s balls and Yuuri’s hand. The lube itself is warm; Yuuri must have heated it up at some point. Victor squirms a little more, and Yuuri takes pity on him and starts fingering him in long, slow strokes, pressing in deep and curling his fingertips up when he pulls out.

“Yuuri,” Victor whines again. His entire pelvis feels like it’s pulsing with his heartbeat.

“Alright, alright, alright.” Yuuri’s hands both leave Victor’s body, leaving him with only the points of contact between their knees, and then there’s the splurting sound again. Yuuri hums quietly to himself - Victor thinks it’s his free program music, but kind of off key - and then something much more blunt than Yuuri’s fingers starts to press into him.

Victor makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. His fists open and close above him and everything feels muffled.

“Easy,” Yuuri says soothingly. “You know the big part is the hardest. Just let me in.”

Victor breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth and he wills his body to relax. Yuuri places one wet hand on his belly and pets his skin and Victor hums, enticed by the smooth slide of skin on skin. His body stretches and aches, and then Yuuri gives the vibrator a little nudge and the widest part gets past Victors muscles and his body slowly swallows the rest of it until it settles against the ridge.

“There you go,” Yuuri says, pleased. He shifts the vibrator a little, pushing down to tilt it upwards. Victor makes a very undignified noise when it presses on all the good nerves. “I’m going to start you out on low until I get the last thing, okay?”

“The last thing? What more do you– _ah–_ ” Yuuri presses a button on the vibrator’s base and it hums to life. Blood starts pounding in Victor’s ears and he rocks from side to side, but he can’t go anywhere. The vibrations are gentle right now, but they shudder through all of him, all the way out to his fingertips. Victor arches his back, and then arches it the other way, which puts some very nice pressure on his insides and makes him confuse a little.

There’s a soft clinking noise somewhere around Victor’s right knee that he can hear over the hum of the vibrator, and he turns blindly and tries to see what it is. Yuuri swears softly under his breath at something, and then fingers are pinching one of Victor’s nipples. Victor gasps softly and grits his teeth to bite back a moan.

“No, keep breathing,” Yuuri instructs. “Deep breath.”

Victor takes a deep breath, and then something closes around his nipple. It feels okay, and then it gets tighter and tighter until it _aches_ , and he gasps again and tries to roll away and then tries to roll back into the sensation.

“Is it alright?” Yuuri asks. He sounds worried. “Not too tight?”

“Not tight enough,” Victor hisses.

Yuuri’s fingers touch Victor’s chest again, and then the loop of the clamp is worked up just a little more and the _ache_ turns into _pain_ and Victor cries out softly and his cock twitches against his belly.

“Is it okay?”

“It’s good,” Victor mumbles. “Both sides?”

“Both sides.” Yuuri’s fingers twist and tug at Victor’s other nipple, much less kindly than the first one, and then he slides the loop on that clamp up too until a sound is ripped out of Victor’s throat. The point of pain on the left feels hot and dull and throbbing, and the one on the right, the new one, is still sharp. “How is it?”

“Good,” Victor pants. “Hot. Hurts.”

“But it a good way?” Yuuri asks.

“In a good way.”

“Good.” Yuuri’s hands disappear for a second, and then wrap around Victor’s thighs, stroking along the pale skin on the insides of them. Victor breathes in sharply through his nose and exhales a little whine. “You’re okay. Those are all the things I have.”

“Lots of things,” Victor says.

“I know.” Yuuri sounds a little sheepish. He keeps petting Victor’s thighs. “But I thought we would need them. We’ll see if I was right.”

He reaches down and touches the vibrator’s base. Victor jerks against the scarf. Yuuri traces around the edge of Victor’s body where the vibrator disappears, and then the vibrator jiggles a little and the vibrations kick up a notch. Victor jumps a little and swears and tries to claw frantically at the headboard, but the gloves prevent him from moving his hands pretty much at all.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yuuri says comfortingly. “You don’t have to do anything. Just feel it.”

“It’s– it’s a lot,” Victor stammers out. It is. It’s very very _a lot_. Victor can take any of these things on their own with no problem, but together, when he can’t even _see_ what’s happening…

“I know it is,” Yuuri agrees. Lips press against Victor’s knee again. “It will help.”

There’s the squirting noise, and lube dribbles onto Victor’s cock, drenching it and warming it. Even that touch make Victor twitch and buck up - it feels much _more_ than usual, much more physical and intentional and overwhelming. Then Yuuri wraps his hand around Victor’s cock and he spreads the lube around with slick, wet-sounding slides - they make such loud noises, it almost sounds fake, like something out of porn. Yuuri hums again and squeezes Victor’s cock gently and Victor convulses.

“Victor.”

“Mmmm.”

“Can you remember your jump sequences?”

That catches Victor by surprise. He blinks at Yuuri through the blindfold. “Um… it starts with a quad Salchow triple toe combination and then–”

The vibrator goes up another notch. Victor chokes on his own words and his own spit and lets out a high, frantic keen.

“You still remember,” Yuuri notes. His hand is still moving slowly on Victor’s cock. “You can still think about it. I want to make you stop.”

“Yuuri,” Victor breathes.

“Just lie back. I can handle this for you,” Yuuri says. “I’ll make you stop thinking, just for this afternoon.”

The vibrator is pulled slightly out from its natural resting place, then thrust back in. Victor shouts and tries to turn against his arm, but the scarf is too thick and has too much padding. Victor’s head thumps back against the pillow and Yuuri shifts the vibrator again, turning it a few degrees to the left, then a few degrees to the right. Victor’s right leg kicks out and Yuuri catches it and holds it under his arm.

“You’re so sensitive today,” Yuuri murmurs reverently. He lets the vibrator settle into its natural position, nestled inside Victor, and then starts rubbing messily along his belly and chest. Just the hint of pressure against the nipple clamps when Yuuri passes them makes Victor shudder violently and thrust his chest out. Yuuri shoves him back down and tweaks the left clamp and Victor pants through a tiny explosion of pain that drips across his torso.

“Easy,” Yuuri says again, but he sounds pleased. “How many settings does this have?” He taps the base of the vibrator again.

“Six,” Victor says through gritted teeth.

“Perfect.” Yuuri nudges it up to the fourth level and Victor bites down on his own tongue but a loud, high sound comes out of his throat anyway. The vibrations are strong and they get _everywhere_ , shaking places they’re not even touching. Victor grinds down again, tilting his hips down and thrusting up into the air and making the vibrator shift inside him and press upwards around his prostate and that just makes everything worse.

“Let’s leave that there for a while,” Yuuri says decisively. He curls both hands around Victor’s cock now, and his skin is still wet and hot and _hot_ as he strokes upwards. He puts one hand under the other under the other under the other, always pulling up, making one long, smooth stroke. Victor’s leg kicks again, so Yuuri catches both knees and clamps them down with his arms and presses a soft kiss to Victor’s belly.

“What jump do you do on your third pass?” Yuuri asks.

“I– the third? I…” Victor slurs out. He tries to recall his technical component list. Is it… a triple axel? That would be earlier. Later? God, Victor can’t remember, not without running through the whole first part. “I don’t know.”

“Good.” Yuuri sounds very pleased. His voice settles into Victor’s chest.

“What is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you yet,” Yuuri says. “You don’t need to know.”

“Yuu– Yuuri,” Victor breathes, chest hitching as Yuuri’s fingers twist over the head of his cock.

“Not important right now,” Yuuri insists. He shifts below Victor, scooting forward, and then the vibrator is pressing deeper into Victor as Yuuri balances it with his shin. Victor’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out. Yuuri’s hands leave his cock and start petting at his chest again. Yuuri jostles the clamps not particularly gently and Victor gasps and whines and bucks and tries to fuck himself down on the vibrator with moderate success. Yuuri pushes him back down again. “Let’s just leave this for a bit.”

He unfolds himself and crawls out from between Victor’s legs. For a second, Victor can’t feel or hear Yuuri, and the anxiety spike is much worse this time. “Yuuri?”

“I’m right here.” Yuuri’s hand touches Victor’s chest again, and then the bed dips as Yuuri lies down next to him. “Don’t worry, I’m here. Just feel.”

Fingers close around Victor’s cock again and start moving and Victor nearly shouts. His skin is so hot that it feels like the lube should have evaporated off him already. His hips stutter upwards and fall back down on the bed. It’s too much, he can’t handle this much stimulation from all angles, the deep ache inside him and spread across his chest and in his balls and the shuddering pleasure all around it.

“You’re doing well,” Yuuri says, like he knows what Victor’s thinking. He probably does. “Let it happen.”

Victor relaxes his muscles, one by one, and he tries, but the onslaught is just so _much_. He tries to squirm away from the vibrations, to get a second of clarity, but that only makes it worse, the thickest part of the vibrator rubbing inside him so perfectly. He rolls to the side and Yuuri pushes him back down and his hand leaves Victor’s cock and then the vibrations turn up _even higher_ and Victor can’t hold back his broken wail.

Yuuri doesn’t try to quiet him down, and Victor does _not_ quiet down. Now that he’s started making sounds, they all fall out of his mouth, unstoppable. He tries to grab for the scarf around his wrists, for something to hold onto, but his gloved hands are too clumsy. Every time he arches up, the clamps tug at his skin, and every time he shrinks away, the vibrator presses up inside him and tears more desperate, frantic noises out of his chest. Everything aches in such a delicious, unavoidable way, and Victor thinks he’s about to cry from how _much_ it all is.

“There you go,” Yuuri’s voice drifts into his ear. Lips press against Victor’s cheek and even _that’s_ too much and it makes Victor gasp and turn blindly toward the touch. He hears Yuuri’s soft intake of breath like it’s through a microphone, and then whimpers when Yuuri kisses him, feather light.

“More,” Victor gasps. “Please, more, again, please.”

He thinks he feels Yuuri shiver, but it might just be him. He’s trembling so hard right now that it’s impossible to tell whose body starts where. Yuuri’s hand rubs against Victor’s thigh - wiping the lube off, Victor’s three remaining brain cells fill in - and then dig into his jaw as Yuuri kisses him hard, open mouthed and wet. Victor pants into it, letting Yuuri do what he wants, letting him past Victor’s lips, letting him dig his teeth into places that threaten to tear and leave shallow splits behind. The throb of pain echoes all the way down his body from his chest to his cock to his balls, which are heavy and aching and held off from release by the ring. Yuuri drives Victor higher and higher, and Victor can’t make his body come down.

Yuuri fumbles down around his chest and there’s a soft clicking noise and then pain explodes across Victor’s chest as Yuuri pushes the loop down and takes the clamp off of his left nipple. He thrashes and screams and Yuuri works him through it, rolling the abused nipple between his fingertips. It gets the blood back where it should be, but it _hurts_ so overwhelmingly _good_ and Victor’s nearly hyperventilating with it.

He’s expecting it the next time but he’s not _ready_ for it and he screams again when Yuuri loosens and removes the second clamp. His heartbeat is pounding in it, heavy stabs of delicious agony that Yuuri multiplies when he refuses to stop touching. He rolls Victor’s nipple back and forth, and then he moves and there’s hot and wet and teeth and Victor wails and thrusts his chest up into Yuuri’s face, begging for less and more and anything that Yuuri will give him.

Yuuri sucks at the sore nipple for a moment, then pulls back and blows on it. And even _that_ is too much and Victor cries out and shudders and digs his heels into the bed and fucks up into the air and touches nothing. He’s so desperate, he _hurts_ and he’s sweaty and shaky, his limbs are heavy and his insides are wound too tight. He can feel need in the back of his throat and there’s nothing else, there’s nothing but this, this horrible delicious onslaught of everything all at once. He can’t see or touch or move or really even hear because his heartbeat is so loud in his own ears and the vibrator covers up all of the sounds that make it through anyway.

Yuuri reaches between Victor’s legs and strokes at his thighs and pinches bits of skin between his nails, and then he grabs the base of the vibrator and turns it up as high as it will go. Victor bypasses screaming and his mouth opens wide in silence and his body is one long, curved line as he throws his back up off the bed, all his weight on his shoulders and his neck and his feet. He’s so hard, it hurts and it feels good but it _hurts_ and he can’t come because the pressure is too great around the base of his cock and his balls. It hurts with how good it feels and Victor absolutely can’t think of a single other thing over than how his entire body is one big, exposed, throbbing nerve that Yuuri keeps jamming his nails into and twisting around. He can’t focus on Yuuri’s touches anymore - hands on his chest, touching his throat, two fingers shoved into Victor’s mouth and pressing down on his tongue until he gags and then smearing spit onto his stomach, a palm grinding down against his cock, making the slick, dripping head rub against his own body, forcing him to stimulate himself past words. The prickly feeling of body hair that feels like sandpaper against his hypersensitive skin when Yuuri leans against him, the ice of Yuuri’s breath when he blows across Victor’s chest to try to ease some of the flush. Lips on Victor’s forehead and cheek and lips, a tongue against his, stuttery breaths that Yuuri feeds into Victor’s lungs and Victor gasps for hungrily. He’s dizzy, though he doesn’t know if it’s from lack of oxygen or too much sensation or maybe he’s dying and ascending or something. He doesn’t know where his own body is right now. It’s too hard to keep track.

Yuuri is jerking him off, still maddeningly slow, but if it was any faster Victor would probably just burst into tears. As it is now, his eyelashes are wet behind the scarf, but he’s not crying, if only because he’s hyperventilating instead. Yuuri presses their foreheads together and that helps a little bit, but he doesn’t stop touching Victor and that doesn’t help at _all_ and Victor gasps and drowns and sinks.

“Victor,” Yuuri murmurs. “What spins do you do in your choreographic sequence?”

Victor barely remembers what an ice skate is right now.

He doesn’t try to answer, just wails again and tries to hide his face against Yuuri’s throat, but he can’t because the scarf holds him back, and he can’t untie himself because of the gloves, and he can’t see Yuuri to ask him to come closer. But Yuuri does anyway, draping himself half on top of Victor, and Victor cries out into Yuuri’s shoulder as Yuuri strokes him, slick from his own precome.

“There we go,” Yuuri says, sounding pleased and proud and kind of thick in his throat. “I knew you could do it.”

Victor just lets out a broken sobbing sound and rubs his cheek frantically against Yuuri’s throat.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get you taken care of.” Yuuri pulls away and Victor makes a soft whimpering sound and then sags against the bed and tenses up again, because when he relaxes too much, the vibrator presses in new ways and it feels too good to tolerate. Yuuri pushes his legs apart and Victor snaps them closed again, so Yuuri shoulders his way between them, holding Victor spread out with his knees. Victor whines and keens and tries to curl in on himself - it’s too much, it’s too much, his skin is stretching too tightly and it makes pleasure tingle overwhelmingly across every part of him - and Yuuri holds him down with one hand and hooks his fingertips under the edge of the silicone ring around Victor’s cock. Victor goes completely still for a second, and then he starts thrashing harder, and Yuuri has to press his entire forearm into Victor’s chest and bear down on him with all his weight as he carefully works the ring up. It’s soaked by the time he pulls it off, and it lands somewhere on the bed to Victor’s right and is ostensibly lost forever in Victor’s mind.

Victor’s cock twitches hard once he’s freed, and then Yuuri’s hand is back around him and he’s suddenly moving two or three times as fast as before. Victor’s cry gets garbled and breaks down in his throat and tears spring into corners of his eyes and it’s _too much it’s too much he can’t take it–_

A different kind of sensation rips through him, one that’s just heat, like he’s been dropped into fire. He can’t even tell if it feels good – it’s pleasure, sure, but mostly, it’s just an overwhelming release of tension and emotion and it sweeps through him, making his whole body tingle and shake. Even Yuuri on top of him can’t keep him still and he nearly bucks Yuuri off as his body convulses, independant from his mind, which is just blank and white and reeling. He can’t breathe - his body is taking in oxygen, but he’s still drowning, overwhelmed, held down, shaking, sobbing, burning up into his basest form and then drifting when it’s all over.

He drifts for a long time, barely aware of things happening around him. He hears rather than feels the end of the vibrations, and his body reluctantly gives up the vibrator. The weight lifts off his chest and the bed shifts, and then something cool and wet is wiping at his body and between his legs. The scarf around his wrists disappear and the gloves are peeled off, set aside. The other scarf is delicately untied and removed from Victor’s head, but his eyes are stuck closed anyway. He doesn’t think he could open them even if he wanted to.

A thumb brushes against Victor’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears that had escaped. Then the cool wet thing wipes at his face and Victor, unable to do anything but lie there, whimpers softly. It’s probably a washcloth, but even that feels too rough right now.

The cloth disappears and then a blanket drapes over his body. His arms are guided down on top of it and his fingers curl into it clumsily. It feels good, soft and gentle. There are footsteps around Victor, but they’re extraneous, too far outside Victor’s fish-eye scope of self to even try to think about them.

After a moment, the bed shifts and Yuuri slips under the blanket next to him. He helps Victor roll over and positions Victor on his chest. Victor burrows closer, face hidden against Yuuri’s throat again, and Yuuri wraps his arms around him, rubbing his back in long, slow, smooth lines that Victor sinks into like an anchor through the water. Yuuri murmurs something to him and it sounds soothing, but it’s in English and Victor can’t manage English right now. He can’t even manage Russian. Trying to think is like wading through water with weights on his legs, and it’s far too much effort to try, so he just lets his body go lax and sleep comes for him instantly.

He wakes up four hours later, aching in the most satisfying ways. He’s not draped over Yuuri anymore, instead lying face down in the bed, but he reaches out a hand blindly and his knuckles bump into Yuuri’s hip. Victor cracks open one blurry eye and looks up to see Yuuri looking back, a book in his hands and a soft smile on his face. Victor mirrors the smile, and Yuuri sets his book aside and scoots down to lie next to him. Victor’s eyes slip closed again.

“There you are,” Yuuri says softly. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“Mmmmm.” Words aren’t working yet, so Victor just tucks himself into Yuuri’s side, one arm thrown across his waist.

Yuuri chuckles. “How are you feeling? Better?”

Victor nods slowly. He does feel better, cleansed from the inside out and more rested than he’s been in three months. He feels lazy and comfortable and content.

“Good. It’s just about dinner time, how about you get bundled up and you can come sit with me while I cook?”

Victor nods again, more eagerly. Yuuri gets out of bed and stretches, then gets a big, soft sweater and a pair of sweatpants from Victor’s dresser. He slowly prods a very liquid, unhelpful Victor into them, and then Victor demands a few minutes of hugs before he lets Yuuri lead him out to the kitchen. Victor sits on the floor and Makkachin climbs into his lap, needy after five hours alone, and as he watches Yuuri chopping up garlic, he feels lighter than he has in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> victor's vibrator is [this in black](https://www.lelo.com/loki). a be-prostated friend of mine has one of these and he fckn loves it. he also has at least one [stainless steel anal plug](https://www.fleshlight.com/collections/anal-toys-men/products/njoy-pure-plug-large), as seen in [janken](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9640274).


End file.
